


Last Dance, First Dance

by randomwriter57



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Ballroom Dancing, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Romance, Tea Dances, love at first dance lol, platonic dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 03:05:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13332156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomwriter57/pseuds/randomwriter57
Summary: The dancer's face lights up and, perhaps a little over-zealously, he offers Mikleo a hand.Mikleo takes it.





	Last Dance, First Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!  
> So if any of you have seen my fics for other fandoms (which is unlikely, but if you have, hi!), you'll know that I'm a bit in love with ballroom dance AUs. Of course, this meant writing a sormik one was inevitable.  
> Enjoy!

The floor is a maelstrom of colour. Couples of all ages and fashions take to it, hand in hand, coming together. Swirling around the room, dresses spilling out around them, the constant movement is mesmerising, enough to suck you in.

At least here there’s less chance of being elbowed on purpose, or so Mikleo hopes.

As he and Alisha walk into the ballroom, he notes the beautiful architecture, particularly the arches carved into the roof. Though it is not the most impressive or the oldest ballroom he’s stepped foot in, it still makes a pleasant viewing experience, particularly with the help of the old chandeliers scattering light round the ballroom.

Despite the mostly casual dress of everyone around them, he still manages to feel under-dressed, wearing only a light blue button-up paired with white dress trousers and black dance shoes. Beside him, Alisha wears the simplest dress he’s seen her in for a long time - she is still naturally very pretty, but it’s odd to see her in a casual pink dress rather than one covered in sequins and frills and god damn _godets_.

They find a small table near the edge of the floor, which, Mikleo happily notices, bounces lightly with each step of the dancers on it. Though this is not a competitive event, it’s always pleasant to dance on a springy floor.

“There are so many people,” Alisha says, setting her handbag down on the cloth-covered table. “I didn’t expect tea dances to be so popular.”

Most of the people dancing are silver haired with wrinkled - well, _everything_ \- but Mikleo doesn’t mention that. Particularly when the music changes to the fast-footed quickstep, and a young couple comes charging through the crowd, carving a path through the middle of the dancers, whilst still managing to follow the line of dance. They pause near their table, hovering momentarily before launching into a flurry of pendulum kicks.

In this time, Mikleo manages to get a good look at the couple; the woman, whose back faces them, is mostly obscured by a length of hair reaching her ankles, making it a miracle that she can even dance the quickstep without getting tangled up. Her dress, or what he can see of it, is a beautiful red and white creation with a cinched waistline and a skirt which poofs outwards, almost like the dresses used in competitions, though not quite as flashy.

The man is only scant centimetres taller than her, with a crows’ nest of brown hair which manages to swoop quite elegantly over his forehead. He wears a simple short-sleeved button-up in royal blue, tucked into black trousers. Somehow his bright green eyes and wide grin manage not to waver at all, even as they finish their stationary footwork and move into some more runs across the floor.

“Are they competitive dancers? I’ve never seen them,” says Alisha.

“They must be,” Mikleo says. He’s never seen such precise footwork in amateur dancers before. Not that amateurs can’t be good at the quickstep, but this pair are much better than that.

Alisha leans forward, ringlets of her hair falling around a smile. “Why don’t you ask her to dance? Then you could find out.”

“No.” Mikleo doesn’t need to go anywhere near the couple to see that the woman is a good few inches taller than him. He doesn’t particularly want to get caught up in that whirlwind either. (Or to step on her hair, for that matter). “If you want to know so badly, why don’t you ask the man to dance?”

“I couldn’t do that!” Her cheeks flush a light pink. "That would be entirely improper of me."

"I don't think he'd mind." From appearances only, he gets the impression that the dancer doesn't really care much about formality. "But maybe if you dance, you'll attract his attention."

She hums. "Perhaps you're right. Though it seems cocksure of me to agree to something like that."

Mikleo stands up, offering her a hand just as the music changes to a Viennese waltz. "We came here to dance, so I see nothing arrogant about doing so."

Face melting into a smile, Alisha takes his hand and they move together onto the floor. They don't even think before falling into a hold they've maintained since childhood. Taking their first steps is almost reminiscent of the first dance class in which they were paired up, when Alisha's hands gripped his arms tightly enough to leave marks, and Mikleo couldn't look up from the floor. Of course, this has changed. Now they glide across the dance floor in elegant poise, moving fluidly from natural turns to reverse, even throwing in a fleckrl out of habit. Once or twice they pass the other young couple, and Mikleo catches sight of a long white ponytail just in time to move out of its path. Just after, though, he meets eyes of viridian green, only caught for a split second, though it feels far longer; those eyes stay imprinted in his mind even as the music draws to a close and he draws away from Alisha, each giving the other a bow with a smile.

Only moments later, someone taps his shoulder.

"Excuse me," a smooth tenor says.

He turns to see the dancer with brown hair, the one whose eyes are even more vibrant now he gets a chance to see them for more than a moment.

"Yes?" he asks with a hint of caution.

The man smiles at him and scratches the back of his neck. "I know this might sound strange, but would you care to dance with me?"

A hint of surprise pops into his brain, though he tries not to let it show. He knows that Alisha is surprised enough for both of them, or so he can tell by her wide eyes. He wants to tell the man that his request isn't strange, considering events like this are meant for dancing. But his words seem to have disconnected from his brain.

Instead he nods a little dumbly. "Okay."

The dancer's face lights up and, perhaps a little over-zealously, he offers Mikleo a hand.

Mikleo takes it.

Alisha and the long-haired dancer move off the floor, and Mikleo and his new partner fall into position. By instinct, Mikleo's hand finds its way to the dancer's right shoulder, the other clasped in an already waiting hand. When the music plays, they rise together.

One of the benefits of the Viennese waltz is its simplicity. Mikleo can't help but thank his lucky stars that he doesn't have to attempt to reverse any complex steps, since he's dancing as the follower and not the leader. Somehow, he manages to follow this dancer with no problems, whisking around the floor and feeling all the while that this is unlike any other first dance he's ever experienced.

What is most unlike any other dance he's done is the fact that, though they are in the proper hold otherwise, he cannot tear his eyes away from those which hold his just as steadfastly. This connection might be why it is so easy for him to ignore his footwork and just dance without thought.

When the music ends, they remain in hold, eyes still locked onto each other.

"What's your name?" the dancer breathes, quiet enough not to break the spell.

"Mikleo," he replies in an equally hushed tone.

The dancer's eyes widen before softening into a smile. "You're an amazing dancer, Mikleo."

"I could say the same to you," Mikleo says. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Sorey.”

A new song begins to play, and they naturally begin to move together once more. With a routine made up of basic turns, they continue their conversation.

“I don’t suppose you do this often, do you, Sorey?”

Sorey gives a little laugh, one which makes Mikleo’s breath catch in his throat. “Attending tea dances? Or asking beautiful strangers to dance?”

If his laugh caught Mikleo off-guard, his second statement certainly has an even greater effect. He stumbles in his footwork and tries to cover it up, but it’s obvious that his partner notices.

In the end, Sorey answers before Mikleo can speak. “The woman I came with, Lailah, runs a dance school nearby. I help out with the teaching there. Every now and then, the two of us like to come here to relax, especially since she retired from competitions.”

“You didn’t compete?”

“No, I never really got the chance to. There weren’t any dance schools near my village which had a competitive aspect.” Sorey leads them into a flurry of reverse turns before returning to the basic box steps. “What about you?”

“My friend Alisha and I dance in competitions together,” Mikleo says. “This is the first time we’ve come here, though.”

Green eyes widen in awe, sparkling under the lights. “That’s amazing.”

Mikleo can’t shrug due to the hold he’s in, so he tilts his head instead. “It’s just something we both love doing.”

“Have you danced as the follower before?” Sorey asks. “You seem to know what you’re doing really well.”

“A few times. Can’t say I’ve had a partner quite as handsome as you before, though.” The words are out of his mouth before he realises it, and though he pairs them with a confident smirk, he immediately berates himself for saying such things.

For a second, Sorey is taken aback at Mikleo’s direct compliment. Then he grins cheekily. “I’m glad to hear it.”

They dance for a little while longer before the song ends. Though they do not part immediately, eventually they do. Mikleo’s hand and waist feel oddly cold.

“I should find Alisha,” says Mikleo.

Sorey’s eyes grow dim, but he nods and pastes on a smile. “Yeah, I should find Lailah, too.”

He hovers for a moment, thoughts flashing past his eyes before he suddenly takes Mikleo’s left hand in his own, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it. At the contact, Mikleo’s heart pauses, and his hand tingles with warmth. Then Sorey pulls away, directing to him a gentle smile.

“Can I ask you to save your last dance for me?” Sorey says.

Mikleo doesn’t need to think before replying. “Of course.”

Sorey lingers only a moment longer, giving Mikleo a radiant smile before turning away into the crowd, leaving him breathless. Mikleo stays on the spot, still frozen from the contact and shock of everything which has just happened. It’s only when the next song begins that he remembers himself and hurries off the dance floor with the intent of finding Alisha.

Luckily it only takes him a minute or so to spot her at the table they claimed earlier, sipping at a cup of tea. A pang of guilt floods his heart.

“Alisha,” he says as he sits down. “I’m so sorry for abandoning you all of a sudden.”

She looks up from her tea with wide eyes, shaking her head. “No, don’t worry. We both came here to enjoy ourselves, so it’s only fair that you should dance when you’re invited to.”

“Perhaps, but I came here with you. I shouldn’t have left you all on your own for so long.”

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t entirely alone.” She gives him a somewhat wry smile. “I spoke with the partner of the man who asked you to dance. She only just left a minute before you returned.”

“Oh, really?” Mikleo feels a bit better, knowing that Alisha didn’t have to sit on her own while he was having a good time dancing. Of course, he knows that Alisha is independent enough not to sit around when she doesn’t want to, so worrying about something like that feels silly, in hindsight. “What’s she like?”

“Her name is Lailah,” Alisha says. “She has only recently retired from competing professionally. She specialised in Latin, though, so I suppose that is likely why we haven’t seen her in competitions before.”

That would make sense, now Mikleo thinks about it. He and Alisha only ever compete in standard competitions, though they know how to dance Latin as well. They just both prefer standard, is all.

“Sorey did tell me that she runs a dance school,” Mikleo says. “He helps out there.”

Alisha hums. “What else did you learn about him, then?”

Mikleo tells her what precious little he knows about Sorey, feeling ashamed that he doesn’t have all that much to say. Still, it makes sense, considering they only spoke a little whilst they danced together. Once he’s finished explaining, he says, “It surprised me, when he asked me to dance out of the blue like that. If anything, I would have expected him to ask you.”

“I suppose that’s the conventional way of thinking,” Alisha says with a laugh. “But he seems to be an unconventional fellow.”

Before Mikleo can respond, a quiet cough grabs their attention. When they turn to the source of the sound, they see a rather well-build man standing beside their table, his cheeks flushed. Shyness doesn’t seem particularly fitting of a man of his build, with his well-defined jawline and spiked hair, but it is a tad endearing, especially when he speaks.

“Excuse me, madam,” he says to Alisha, “I hate to interrupt you, but would you do me the honour of sharing a dance with me?”

Light green eyes widen, flickering over to Mikleo before returning to the stranger.

“I would love to,” Alisha says, taking the man’s offered hand and standing. “You don’t mind, do you Mikleo?”

“Of course not,” Mikleo says, smiling. “Have fun.”

The newly-created couple walk to the floor together, hand in hand, as a slow foxtrot begins to play. Mikleo leans his head on his palm, watching as Alisha places herself in the stiff hold of the man dancing with her. When the pair begin to dance, it’s obvious to the practised eye that this man isn’t a seasoned dancer, even if he knows the basics. Still, Alisha follows his lead without fail, smiling and chatting with him as they glide around the floor.

Now that he’s alone, Mikleo lets his thoughts return to Sorey. Though he hasn’t competed, his dancing could have been enough to get to the finals of a competition, at least. He dances with a certain modesty, surprisingly not too flashy and more focused on the emotion of each step. In their Viennese waltz, Mikleo could feel the gentle tug of his sway, how he slowed as they hovered and pushed suddenly into a whirlwind of emotions once more. And even before that, in the quickstep, his energy seemed infinite.

Mikleo finds himself aching to dance with him again, to experience his interpretation of every dance he knows. He wants to know Sorey’s elegant foxtrot and to counter his sharp tango. He’d even happily dance Latin with him; he can imagine Sorey being at home in the jive, and his footwork is precise enough that a cha-cha would be no problem.

(He tries not to let his thoughts stray down the path of the sensuous rumba, wherein hands wander and the bodies come closer than in any other dance. To think of dancing such a meaningful dance with a stranger is a little bizarre, even if he knows Sorey’s take on the dance would be a blessing to experience.)

Lost in thoughts, he doesn’t realise he’s worrying his lip until a voice startles him into consciousness, and his teeth jam down enough to draw blood.

“Mikleo!”

He looks up to see the subject of his thoughts standing before him, accompanied by his dance partner. Sorey gives him a sunshine smile, unaware of the fright he’s just given Mikleo.

“Hello again,” Mikleo says when he recovers.

“I wanted to introduce you to Lailah,” Sorey says, gesturing to his partner. “Lailah, this is Mikleo.”

Lailah gives him a warm expression, bowing her head in greeting. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“And the same to you,” Mikleo says. “You can sit down, if you like.”

Both Sorey and Lailah take seats at the table, with Sorey taking the one directly to Mikleo’s right, and Lailah on his other side. Luckily the table isn’t too big, so they can still speak to each other easily.

“Sorey was telling me you compete,” Lailah says, leaning forward. “I was surprised, since I haven’t seen you at competitions before.”

“My partner and I mostly dance standard,” Mikleo explains. “It’s always been that way. We’re not quite the top tier in ballroom dancing, but we usually make finals.”

“That certainly sounds close to top tier! Besides, when you danced with Alisha earlier, I could tell you were both professionals.”

Mikleo smiles wryly. “That was mostly Alisha, I think. She’s dedicated her life to dance.”

Surprisingly, Lailah shakes her head. “Though Alisha is a wonderful dancer, even when you danced with Sorey, I could see something special in your dancing. I don’t know if there’s a trademark style in your school, or if a family member taught you, but there’s a certain element of your dancing which seems almost familiar, somehow.”

“I’m not really sure what you mean,” Mikleo says, a little confused by her words. Sure, his mother and uncle used to dance together before his mother met his father, and they taught him bits and pieces before he went to a dance school and met Alisha. Still, he doesn’t know if that would have changed anything in his dance style at all. He didn’t even know that different people could have different trademark styles.

“In any case,” Sorey says, “you really are an amazing dancer. That Viennese waltz was almost dreamlike.”

Again, Mikleo thinks that’s more due to Sorey’s influence than his own, since all he really remembers is the feeling of Sorey’s lead and the time he spent gazing into his eyes without focusing on much else. He doesn’t mention that, though.

“Perhaps the two of you should exchange numbers,” Lailah says, clapping her hands together. “That way you can keep in touch and possibly dance together more often!”

Mikleo’s eyes turn to Sorey’s to find him looking at him with a spark of hope. He finds that he can’t look away, nor would be be able to refuse even if he wanted to. Not under the influence of such a captivating gaze.

“I would love that,” Mikleo says quietly.

“Me too,” says Sorey, his expression melting into a soft smile.

They exchange numbers as promised, not noticing Lailah leaving the table to speak to some acquaintance not too far away. Once they’re done, Mikleo stands and offers a hand to Sorey. Although he’s promised his last dance to Sorey, that doesn’t mean they can’t dance a few in between as well, right?

“Would you like to share another dance?”

Sorey’s beam could light the whole room, fancy chandeliers be damned.

“Of course. How could I say no?”

 

* * *

 

The floor is a still sea. People stand at its borders, applauding as two take to the floor. The couple melt into hold as though this is where they were made to be. Together, when the music begins, they move.

Neither has to think about the footwork they've crafted together. Radiant in white, Mikleo follows Sorey's lead as they swirl across the floor, his hair tumbling behind him in a long ponytail. Though Mikleo hears compliments directed towards him, he knows that the most enchanting one here is surely Sorey; or perhaps it's the way he's looking at him, with eyes filled with adoration and awe, like he can't quite believe he's lucky enough to be in this situation.

(Sorey has even said this himself, but every time he does this, Mikleo assures him that he is the lucky one. He still finds himself waking up in the morning, filled with wonder that this is his life, now. Seeing the new glittering gold on his hand only makes his wonder stronger.)

Together they whirl to a pause in a corner of the floor, the applause numb to their ears as Sorey dips Mikleo. His head tips back, hair skimming the floor and his fringe falling back to show his golden circlet. He remembers his mother’s teary expression as she placed it on his forehead this morning, covering the spot she kissed only moments before. He also remembers Sorey placing a kiss on it, as well as many others peppered all over his face, when the ceremony ended.

Rising once more, they find their noses brushing, matching smiles only millimetres from each other.

“Thank you,” Sorey murmurs. “For this. Our first dance.”

Mikleo sighs in adoring exasperation. “This isn’t technically our first dance, you know.”

“It’s our first dance while married, though.”

“Tell me you’re not going to say that about everything we do from now on.”

Sorey laughs, his breaths soft against Mikleo’s skin. “Oh, come on, think of the possibilities! Our first dinner, our first grocery shopping trip, our first shower…”

Mikleo presses a kiss to his mouth. Mostly to shut him up. But also because damn if he doesn’t want to be kissing Sorey all day now. (Well, technically all night, he thinks as he catches sight of the moon through a window.)

In any case, he leans back again before Sorey can reciprocate. “Let this be my first victory, will you?”

Even though Sorey is usually so stubborn in their debates, he concedes easily this time. Probably because of the kiss. “How can I say no to that?”

The music changes and other couples begin to flood the floor, their holds and dancing ranging from amateur to professional. Seeing Lailah and Mikleo’s uncle Michael partnering up in the corner of his eye, Mikleo drags Sorey off the floor, revelling at the feeling of their hands pressed together.

A few paces past the edge of the dance floor, they find Alisha waiting to greet them, wearing a blush pink dress with her hair scooped up into a bun. On her left arm is Sergei, his smile friendly but still a tad awkward. Even after all this time, he still thinks he stole Alisha away from Mikleo.

“Congratulations,” Alisha says warmly.

“Thank you,” Sorey says, his own smile just as warm.

Alisha switches her gaze from Sorey onto Mikleo, familiarity pervading her expression. “Would you like to dance? For old times’ sake.”

“How brazen of you,” Mikleo says teasingly, remembering how long it took Alisha to accept that she can take the initiative too. “I would love to.”

As Alisha separates from Sergei and heads towards the dance floor, Mikleo makes to follow her, only to find Sorey’s hand lightly grasping his wrist. He turns to face him.

Sorey’s expression is one filled with love, a smile made only for him. “Save your last dance for me?”

Mikleo melts at the words, stepping closer to press a chaste kiss to his husband’s lips. Usually he isn’t one for cheesy romanticisms, but he’ll make an exception today. “I’ll give you my last, my first, and all the ones in between.”

They gaze into each other’s eyes a moment longer, reluctant to break the contact, until Mikleo finally moves away, taking to the floor once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me [@luzrofrulay](http://twitter.com/luzrofrulay) on twitter / [@luzrof-rulay](http://luzrof-rulay.tumblr.com) on tumblr for more Tales Of ramblings | [@randomactuallywrites-57](http://randomactuallywrites-57.tumblr.com) on tumblr for more writing!


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